


The Art of Broken Pieces

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (i just realised that i don't actually know how AO3 works), Akaashi is only there briefly, Gen, Semi goes through a lot, figure skating AU, somewhat introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10025924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Semi progresses through life and loves, loses and loves again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first proper fic I've written in a long time so please forgive me! It's also completely unedited and my sleep deprived brain wants me to rest, so here I am!
> 
> Inspired by Hope and Legacy, an Awakening story I read a few years ago and the one true love of my life, Yuzuru Hanyu, whose 4CC performance motivated me to save this story from the depths of WIP hell. 
> 
> I really wish that I could skate myself, but my back says no. Apologies for any inaccuracies.

Semi is five years old when he first steps foot on the ice, tentative and unsure with his face flushed red and mittened hands clinging to his mother’s coat.

“You’re going to be fine, Eita.” His mother reassures, promising not to let go and they begin a slow, yet steady loop around the rink. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

He wobbles with the semblance of a new-born deer just learning to walk but he doesn’t protest. His mother’s tone is warm and secure and Semi simply can't help but trust her. She’s here with him. He’s invincible. Untouchable. And it feels amazing. The ground slides away with ease and it feels like he’s floating.

They carve unintelligible pictures into the ice with their skates and Semi loves every minute. It’s a public rink and Semi is entranced by how he glides, by the burst of cold air that sent shivers down his spine, by how strangers – clearly much more advanced than either of them – take off into the air like birds in flight, as graceful as swans. It’s beautiful and he wants to try it too – “When you’re older, Eita,” his mother tells him – and he’s unable to hide his disappointment. He’s always told that, and Semi wants to tell the world that five years old is plenty big enough.

They continue for another hour or so, hand in hand, and that’s when Semi slips. He feels the world falling beneath him. His heart races, overwhelmed by the sudden jolt and nauseating sinking feeling in his stomach. Semi lets out a startled yell. Flails his arms.

But true to her every word, his mother catches him with a laugh, setting him right again before checking he’s alright. A determined nod meets her concern and his heart calms, sinking into the familiar embrace of his mother, casting his gaze downwards in half embarrassment and half sheer relief. She checks him once over for any injuries before Semi slips his hand comfortably back into hers. She squeezes gently and her smile is reassuring.

Semi almost doesn’t want to ever leave.

“We’ll come back, Eita” she tells him, leading him off the ice to where his father and little sister were waiting with steaming polystyrene cups of hot chocolate. “And maybe we can even get you a proper teacher.” Semi likes the sound of that, and the taste of the beverage on his lips has never been sweeter, spreading warmth in his chest like his mother’s soft smiles and gentle laugh.

 

* * *

 

At the age of six, Semi’s mother drives him to the rink again. This time, they are greeted by a wizened old man who stares him down with a withering glare. Semi has never felt so self-conscious, hyper aware of his short stature, the frosty cold and the goose bumps dotting his arms. It takes almost every ounce of courage within him not to hide behind his mother’s coat.

The man nods after a moment, having apparently sized up Semi, and introduces himself as Washijo Tanji, Semi’s new skating coach.

He’s put on the ice almost immediately. “The best way to learn is by trying, falling and getting back up again.” Washijo remarks, giving Semi a gentle push as he’s clinging to the sides of the rink. “There is no theory or fool-proof guide.”

Semi lets go and immediately regrets it. Without his mother, who had retreated off to the side, he feels vulnerable, exposed to unforgiving ice without an escape. Washijo comments on his form, “Bend your knees!” and “Straighten up!”

Semi wants to protect and a second nudge nearly sends him sprawling onto the ice.

“Keep your head forward,” Washijo adds, frowning.

He bites back an indignant “it’s a lot harder than it looks!” and grits his teeth.

“You can do it Eita!” Semi’s mother shouts her encouragement from the side lines and a flame of determination is rekindled within him. He can do this.

Semi is nervous and his movement is stilted at first but he quickly gets lost in the beauty of the ice. A second instructor is nearby to catch him if he falls but Semi has already forgotten the rest of the world. He picks skating up with ease, powered through by sheer enjoyment and determination alone. Semi glides and falls in love within a matter of minutes.

 

* * *

 

When Semi turns seven, he’s gifted his first proper set of skates for his birthday. His eyes shine with glee as he unwraps the box, positively buzzing. A reliance on rentals had left him craving for his own pair, something to put to his name and to cherish. It hadn’t been long since his rink mates started turning up to sessions with their own pristine set of new ice skates and Semi had burned with all the envy a young child possible could have.

“You should get some too, Eita.” They had told him and Semi had held his tongue, silently hoping and not daring to beg his mother after his parents had invested so much into his lessons alone.

“Thank you!” He doesn’t forget his manners in all his excitement, enveloping his parents in a hug as they look on fondly. Gratitude wells up in his chest because he’s the luckiest son on the planet. “Mum, Dad, I love you lots and lots!”

His father ruffles his hair with a grin. “We love you too, Eita, now you can show the world just how amazing you are.”

Semi beams. His mother offers to drive him to the rink straight away and he accepts, desperately wanting to show off the jump he’s been working on. The skates fit like they were made just for him, they’re not tight around his toes and, if not a little stiff, he feels at ease when he returns to the ice.

It’s a little tricky but with his coach watching from the side lines, he executes a shaky waltz jump before nearly falling flat on his face. He regains his balance and looks up in time to watch her reaction.

The way his mother’s eyes light up at his success as she claps is worth it. Semi thinks to himself that if he could make her happy with his skating, then he’d learn every jump in the world thrice over and perfect each and every one of them.

 

* * *

 

At the age of eleven, Semi loses his mother to an illness.

She had been bedridden for days and he had spent that week alone clinging to her hospital bed long after visiting hours had passed. The nurses hadn’t the heart to make him leave and Semi wishes now that they had. It made missing her much more painful.

He remembers it all: the sickly fragility of her hands as she ruffles his hair, the harsh stench of disinfect that made it hard to breathe and, most of all, the empty façade and broken smile replacing a women who once buzzed with life. Semi wants her back and he quickly grows tired of waking up to a tear stained pillowcase.

When he takes to the ice again, he misses the landing of each jump. The axel is underrotated and he doesn’t jump high enough for the lutz. His step sequence is clumsy and the force of his spin sends him careering off balance.

Washijo looks furious so Semi braces himself for what is to come. His coach grills him on what he’s supposed to know. Semi forgets, unable to remove his mother from his mind just yet, and apologises, turning his cheek from the pitying looks he received from his rink mates. He doesn’t want their false sympathy and instead immerses himself into his skating.

And just like that, his family starts to fall apart. Semi tries to stay away from home and when he can’t, he locks himself away in his room, his father turns distant and cold whilst his sister wonders what she did wrong when she gets snapped at for asking to play.

After practice, Semi buys hot chocolate from the rink vendor and it’s bitterer than he remembers. He throws it out, shoving the memory to the back of his mind. The cold stings his eyes red and Semi wills himself not to cry anymore.

 

* * *

 

Semi is sixteen when his father forbids him from skating competitively in the junior league.

“Focus on your studies,” he says, tone cold and clipped, the man not deigning to even spare his son a second glance, “I’ll be having none of that skating nonsense ruin your future.”

Semi wants to protest but he bits down his tongue and nods with reluctance. “Yes father,” comes his response, the man not quite catching the bitterness in his voice. The door behind his study shuts with a click and that will be the last Semi will see of his father for that day.

_Be quiet, stand up straight, don’t talk back_. The lessons are drilled into him and he and his sister both know better than to argue.

_Don’t stomp, no laughing, don’t speak unless spoken to._ Semi’s father loathes noise, “I can’t work with you the two of you prattling on,” he complains and he doesn’t have to ask again.

_Remember your manners, no slouching, do as you’re told._ Semi says he’ll be in the library and it’s the most frequent lie that he’s told.

The ice becomes his escape, his freedom. Emotions that he bottles up are set loose and his skating reflects that, powerful, defiant, beautiful. Semi relishes in the sound of his blades slicing across the rink before he shifts his weight and vaults up, crossing his legs whilst in rotation to perform a skilfully executed triple axel. He nails the landing and takes it as a small victory against his father whose tolerance for anything and everything is at rock bottom.

Washijo nods in approval but refuses to hold back on his criticisms. “You are too emotional,” he says with a frown, “your skating is temperamental and unreliable,” he pauses, “but when you are in top form, it is pretty damn near perfect.”

Semi takes it as high praise and leaves the rink with his cheeks flushed red.

Later he is approached by Shirabu Kenjirou, a boy one year his junior. Semi recalls his programs: technically perfect but falling short in presentation.

“You’re too inconsistent,” Shirabu remarks, and Semi wants to cuff his ear from the audacity of it all. As if he doesn’t already know.

“You’re too stiff.” Semi responds in kind. “Loosen up, will you?”

Shirabu pulls a face and becomes the only person Semi ever really talks to. When he vows to execute five quads in his program by the time he debuts, Semi laughs him off because really, it’s insane.

Then he recalls his old promise to himself and doesn’t speak of it again. Instead, he sends the boy his silent encouragement and helps him whenever he can because Semi hopes that Shirabu won’t lose the spark and youthful recklessness that once consumed him too.

 

* * *

 

When Semi is eighteen, his father wants him to go to university. Semi has other plans.

He graduates with no stunningly praiseworthy academic achievements but he doesn’t mind, it’s not like it’s going to help him anyway. He was accepted into a university in Sendai, not too far from where he lives, but politely declines the offer to spend a year performing in ice shows across the country and working part time whenever and wherever he could.

“My father won’t fund me if I become an amateur skater,” Semi explains to his career advisor, “So I’ll take a year out and wing it from there.”

It’s probably a stupid idea but Semi has made up his mind. He packs his bags and bids farewell to his sister who seems a little upset that he’s leaving.

“I promise I’ll write,” he swears, embracing her one last time.

“It’s not the same.” She mumbles into his shoulder.

“I know.”

“Dad is going to be unbearable.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I know. I’ll miss you too.”

Semi leaves in the early hours of the morning, when his father is still fast asleep after working his night shift. He surveys the house he grew up in, it was nothing special but it was still home. Semi remembers the little pond at the back that used to house koi and the little pots of flowers his mother once tended to and happiness. Happiness in his youth when things were right, when his family wasn’t broken.

He treads down the same path he has taken for years and doesn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

Semi has many regrets by the time he’s nineteen but leaving home is not one of them.

 

* * *

 

Two years after his senior debut when he finally hits twenty-one, Semi Eita meets Ushijima Wakatoshi. He is a man of few words and his presence is the calming stillness of the lakefront to Semi’s erratic yet passionate waves crashing into the cliffs.

Semi first spots him entering the rink, just as he was leaving, a large sports bag slung across his back and followed by a troupe of men dressed in matching sweatshirts with numbers emblazoned on their backs.

_Hockey player_ , Semi’s brain supplies, remembering an advert for a coming game and contemplating whether he should go see it or not.

He picks up his skates and when he exits, Semi wonders if he’ll see him again.

He does.

Their first proper meeting is brief and for Semi, a rather embarrassing ordeal, when he gets lost in his routine and spends just a little too long on the ice. He’s enraptured by Chopin (from his earphones), the adrenaline and that burning desire to nail his quads and just misses when Ushijima skates up to him and clears his throat, because his team is getting impatient although Ushijima doesn’t seem to mind watching him for a little longer.

Semi remembers his face burning and thinking that Ushijima’s voice is a little deeper than he imagined to be, not unpleasant at all. It’s a mellow baritone that resonates with him and Semi nearly forgets to breathe, his tongue tripping over his apology because _wow_ , his voice harmonises nicely with the faint piano keys buzzing in his ears but he _really_ needs to get moving. A wolf whistle jolts Semi back into reality long enough to re-orientate himself and not make a further fool of himself.

He later recounts his shame to his training mates and buries his face in his arms. “End me,” Semi says, voice muffled and ears red. “I can’t show my face there ever again.”

Shirabu snickers and laughs at his misery, but Akaashi, (who is now his best friend – thanks for nothing Shirabu), looks thoughtful.

Semi groans and knows it won’t turn out well for him.

 

* * *

 

Celebrating his twenty second birthday, Semi has never been so glad to be wrong.

He recounts his past year, the adrenaline, the crippling feelings of inadequacy, his love for skating-strong as ever- and getting to know the man behind Ushijima Wakatoshi. Semi laughs with freedom in his voice and love in his heart and smiles the smile that dredges up old, but warm, memories he’s locked away. His mother is a fond reminder of all his aspirations, and he swears he won’t ever forget her, but Semi finds himself ready to move on and rekindle the burning passion that had dimmed in his youth.

His father can’t touch him. He doesn’t need an escape – not anymore. Semi skates for himself, and the music, and Ushijima. He skates for the ice, and the thrill and everything that makes him who he is today.

When Semi steps off the ice, he’s greeted by two steaming cups of something nostalgic and a look of awe laced with pride.

He falls in love all over again and nothing has ever been sweeter.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone please come yell at me about my precious fave, Semi Eita, who deserves the world and everything more.


End file.
